


Twenty Two Words

by amyfortuna



Series: Ninnachel [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Poetry, Erotic Poetry, First Age, Other, Quenya, Swearing, War what is it good for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo struggles to understand some of the words in a poem he's found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Two Words

**Author's Note:**

> **B2MeM Challenge:** [General Prompts](http://b2mem.livejournal.com/284221.html?thread=4828477#t4828477): [22 Words You Never Thought Tolkien Would Provide](http://www.silmarillionwritersguild.org/reference/references/pf/22_words.php), use as many as you can in a fanwork.  
>  Also, [Rivendell](http://b2mem.livejournal.com/282988.html?thread=4215404#t4215404): create something from the Library of Rivendell. 
> 
> I'm not a Quenya expert, just someone who can't turn down a challenge to fit a bunch of words in a poem.

Bilbo Baggins, denizen of Rivendell, and mostly of its library, was flipping through the somewhat cumbersome book titled _You Weren't There, Man, I Saw Things And Stuff: Memoirs of the First Age Battles_ (at least that's what he thought the title worked out to be), when he came across a poem that he hadn't translated from Quenya to the Common Tongue yet. 

Eagerly, he set to work on it, but soon discovered that he had a small problem. There were twenty-two words that he could not for the life of him figure out. Some of them he thought he could maybe work out from context. For the rest he would have to ask Master Elrond. 

He translated the poem as best he could, to start with:

Here I am in all this _muk_ ,  
Lover, I am deeply stuck.  
War's truly a terrible thing,  
I've _qama_ 'd over everything.

I saw a _gwef_ the other day,  
Had to _thas_ my hair away.  
(Yes, my love, I sigh, I cry,  
I had to _thas_ my head or die.) 

I'm _balfaug_ nearly all the time,  
Despite the foulness of the wine.  
It's the only way I can survive  
The current _mis_ that is my life. 

I hate the present _gomaithri_  
They never did any good for me!  
Bunch of _fedhirwegs_ they are  
_Gwista suni_ in this war. 

They think their _milt_ is mighty hot,  
They keep their kids from range of shot.  
Bunch of _pukta_ -ing _huchs_ , all  
They have us up against the wall. 

My _hakka_ now are always sore  
But my _tyetse_ hurt even more!  
I haven't had a _gwib_ in weeks,  
Definitely missing certain needs. 

_Hauthwaid_ , I'm about to cry.  
I miss you so that I could die.  
I'd _amapta_ you until the dawn  
(Or as long as you'd let me go on). 

I'd build an _alkar_ to your name  
And worship you until you came  
Your _gwegwin varyto_ is all thine  
Best of both bodies, mixed in mine. 

Please remember your _oiste_ one  
And _pukta_ me when war is done. 

Bilbo took the poem to Master Elrond, who turned several alarming shades of purple when he read it. 

"If it's not any trouble," Bilbo said politely. "I could always ask Elladan or Elrohir. Maybe Arwen could help, she's good with languages."

**Author's Note:**

> muk = shit  
> qama = vomit  
> gwef = louse  
> thas = shave  
> balfaug = drunken  
> mis = piss  
> gomaithri = government  
> fedhirwegs = lawyers  
> Gwista suni = Ignorant bitches  
> milt = seed, sperm  
> pukta-ing huchs = fucking cunts  
> hakka = buttocks  
> tyetse = tits  
> gwib = cock  
> Hauthwaid = Fuckbuddy, consort  
> amapta = ravish  
> alkar = altar, temple  
> gwegwin = intersex  
> varyto = servant, slave  
> oiste = poor


End file.
